


You are Worthy

by Darkest_Day (orphan_account)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Andal is Alive Again, Character Development, Established Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Ikora's Hidden, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Curse of Osiris, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Darkest_Day
Summary: Andal still has a long way to go, and a lot more to come back from.—Now, looking back, it strikes me that he talked with the arrogance of one who can always return from the Void. One who has contemplated the darkness so long he thinks of it as a friend, of sorts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slashseeker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashseeker/gifts).



> Reading [All in All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698901) and [The Undying Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839130) will help you understand this. Reading [From here, the stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135285) will help you understand the next chapter. Unfortunately these stories are too interconnected for them to be one-off's.

Andal Brask hesitated just outside the door. He'd been gone for almost two weeks, off running about the system for Ikora. From the moment he found Sagira in the sands on Mercury to now, he hadn't had a chance to rest. He found the Ghost the second day he was gone, argued with a malfunctioning AI on Nessus, sent to check on no less than three suspected Osiris Cultists hideouts on Venus, Mars, and some remote windy part of Earth.

He didn't live here, he couldn't just walk in. The light was on, he'd already gone to the church and found it empty. He was tired, not in a way that made him want to sleep, but exhausted. All this time he had spent gone made him realize he might not be meant for being a roaming Hunter anymore. His time in the Vanguard had settled his wanderlust for good, now he started to think he could pack it in and concentrate on what made him happy.

And for this very moment, it was the man inside the house in front of him. It seemed like he didn't have a lot left anymore, he ruined friendships with people he was meant to care about, he manipulated someone he was supposed to care about, he made himself look like he'd done some great noble thing, but in the end he had just proven how much of a coward he was. The Void did not have a hold on him anymore, but now he was set with the task of dealing with the life he had never asked for and a thousand regrets on his back.

It was too late to begin telling anyone he was alive, even if he wanted to. He'd been around long enough now that they would know he was hiding, and he was. He had hurt them all so much, it was best to let them all think he was still dead. He thought, sometimes, that the man he used to be was dead. If they did see him now, he didn't know if he would even be recognizable. While he'd been gone he had tried to tell himself that he needed to learn how to move on. He needed to learn to be okay, he needed to learn what 'okay' was. As much as he knew it wasn't a good idea to place his hope to get  _better i_ n someone else, he didn't have any other options. Devrim Kay was, at the moment, the only thing he liked about himself. That's all he had.

But he also knew that he was in a state that wasn't exactly healthy, so the longer he stood at Devrim's front door the more he thought that maybe he should just go home. Andal let out a shaky breath, shaking his head at himself and turning to go. As he did, the door opened. Warm orange light flooded the front step, when he turned his Ghost hovered over the sniper's shoulder. She must have gone inside to override his indecision.

Devrim took Andal into his arms and held him tightly. “You idiot,” he said fondly, voice low, voice just like he remembered. Andal ducked his head into his shoulder, his arms moving around him too. “Did you really think I wouldn't want to see you?” His hood was down and Devrim's gun-calloused hand stroked through his hair. They swayed together on the step, Andal closed his eyes, comforted by the warmth of the man in his arms. Devrim pulled away a little as Andal blinked his eyes open, clear blue eyes meeting his. He closed them again when the other pressed their foreheads together.

He wasn't sure who started it, but the kiss was soft and gentle. There was a hand on the back of his head, the other around his middle under his cloak. He brought up a hand to cup Devrim's cheek. After a moment, they parted and Andal couldn't help the smile on his face.

“Come on, get inside.” He said to him, Andal kissed him one last time before pulling away. The hand on his back didn't move, just readjusted as he was led inside. It was late, he was just glad he was still awake. He was directed to the couch, he sat as the other left. He carefully removed his boots to the familiar sound of tea being prepared, untied all the extra straps and belts and wound them into the shoes. He loosened the knot on the scarf and clipped the cloak from his back, removed his gloves and shoulders and chest, tucking it all into the cloak. He was just standing to unzip the shirt when Devrim returned with two steaming mugs. He tugged the shirt off and readjusted the sleeveless one underneath where it had ridden up. He took a moment to fold it and set it with the cloak before he sat down again, taking the offered mug.

“Tell me all about it,” Devrim offered, settling back on the couch while Andal curled next to him.

They finished their tea as Andal told him about the week, Devrim shared the stories of some of the Guardians that passed through. With their mugs left sitting on the coffee table, one arm around his shoulders and Andal with his partner's free hand clasped between both of his, they just talked. Talked until they were forehead to forehead again, they talked until they devolved into kissing again. Pausing to breathe, nipping at each other's lips.

His heart was hammering in his ears when Devrim pulled away, the man cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should get some sleep.” He suggested, something lurched in his stomach at the offer. He only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was led to the bedroom by the hand, then Devrim pulled him on top of him. This was the first time they were going any further, they'd fallen asleep beside each other, shared a bed a few times, nothing quite like this. There was intent in the way Devrim kissed him, and Andal returned that intent.

Without warning he was pushed onto his back, the action pulled a low noise from him. Andal kept kissing him, kept holding onto him, but Devrim was cooling the heat that was building. He was  _aching_  in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. He hadn't even thought he was capable of being turned on anymore, but Devrim was withdrawing and slowing the pace. Andal would not push.

He woke up early in the morning after getting a couple hours of sleep, Devrim was on his back with one of Andal's hands in his, fingers laced together on his chest. He chewed his tongue, still turned on, and stayed in bed for a little while longer before finally untangling himself and getting up. By the time the water was boiling his partner was awake. He only spared him a quick kiss on the cheek, Andal couldn't help but worry he may have done something wrong. His hesitation, perhaps, when it came to knocking on the door?

They went into the EDZ later and resumed what they'd been doing for months now. Andal did his best to figure out how he might make this better. It was afternoon when Suraya got in touch, her voice rushed and hurried. “What's going on?” The sniper asked, Andal stayed quiet and tense.

“ _Hey, Dev,_ ” She started. “ _Look, Cayde's onto him, he needs to be careful._ ” Andal didn't hear the rest through the ringing in his ears and the endless cold washing down his spine. He was frozen, he had known one day he would have to deal with this – it just wasn't supposed to be this soon. The next thing he knew there were warm hands on him, pulling him out of the shock.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. “I don't doubt that he will come here.” He started, holding Andal's hands with his. “Lay low for a little while, I think.” He could see the way he clenched his teeth, he wasn't meeting his gaze. “Maybe you should go,” he didn't like the way his voice cracked. The man cleared his throat, “I've been thinking a lot lately. I am not a young man, I haven't been a young man for a long time now. I wake up sore some days, I have pains I can't always shake. Andal, I..” He exhaled a short breath, his hands clutching tight. “I'm going to leave this world long before you, and when I do, I'm going to leave you behind. And I'm scared of what will happen to you when I go.”

Andal didn't know if what he felt was fear or panic, or if he just wasn't surprised. After everything he'd done, he knew someone caring about him was too good to be true. He knew damn well that he was going to be asked to leave, for good, when this conversation was over. As much as he wanted to fight this, tell him to just stop and that it didn't matter if their lifespans were entirely different. Just when he was beginning to find reasons and ways to rediscover himself, he was going to have to face this alone.

“I was wrong, Andal. It isn't fair to you for this to continue. A mortal and a Guardian can only end one way, and I can't do that to you. I'm—” His voice sounded so strained, it was a struggle to keep talking. Andal just kept holding his hand, all the little glimmers of hope and strength he had been trying to build wilted and he was left with nothing.

“I'm afraid I'm in love with you, Andal Brask. And I think it would be best if we ended this.”

It felt like a physical blow, he ducked his head to the other's shoulder, clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache. Devrim let go of his hands and locked his arms around him tightly. Andal held him just as tightly, swaying in place like they had last night. All that softness was gone, as soon as he let go that was  _it._  There was pain in his chest and his hands and his head and he held on as long as he could. Eventually, Devrim was loosening his grip on Andal's hands, and he knew it was time. Their last moments together were slipping away and he  _wasn't ready_.

“It might be best for you to leave, Andal,” his voice wasn't cold or unkind, but there was no arguing. He opened his eyes and his vision swam, he loosened his grip as Devrim slipped away from him. Ice filled all the places he'd just been. Devrim turned away, his gaze turned to the window with one hand on one of the planks of wood. He tried to turn away but hesitated, looking at the man who was asking him to  _leave_. He took a few last steps towards him, reaching out a hand, wanting to ask him for one last kiss, one last goodbye, one last chance.

He didn't. He let his hand fall back down to his side. It took everything he had to walk down that ramp; it took even more to step out into the open air outside the church. From there, all he could do was walk back to the Farm. He walked to the one-room cabin he had been staying in, opened the door and took a shaky breath of air.

“ _Andal, Andal please talk to me._ ” His Ghost started, she floated in front of him. “ _You're worrying me._ ”

“Contact Suraya. Ask her to meet me here.” He muttered, his throat dry. “And prepare my ship, I'll leave after I talk to her.” After everything else he fucked up, he was going to say goodbye to her before he left.

There was nothing in the cabin he wanted or needed, so when he left he left the door open. Jaw tight, he didn't let himself linger. He walked across the grass, his Ghost had navigated his ship just overhead a short distance away. When Suraya arrived the concern was written on her face.

“I'm leaving.” He muttered as soon as she was close enough.

“Well, are you coming back?”

He shook his head.

“What about Devrim?”

“This was his decision.”

“.. what?” She shook her head, taking a step towards him. “No, no I'll go talk to him, this isn't right.”

“Don't.” He bit out, “he had his reasons and I—“ His voice cracked, his composure beginning to fracture with it. “It's best it ends like this.” At least his voice hadn't sounded too strangled. Every single time, if he had the choice, he would choose to find a way to deal with the loss of him later rather than end it now.

“It's not supposed to be like this.” Her voice was caught in her throat.

“Well,” he hissed. “I wasn't supposed to be alive either, but here I am.” The irrational part of him told him to hurt her so she wouldn't miss him. He could yell at her, tell her he wished she'd left him on the moon, tell her he never actually cared about any of them. He was good at hurting people he cared about, after all. It was probably the only thing he was good at anymore. But he couldn't do that to her, not when she was wiping her fingers across her cheeks like that.

“Yeah, Andal. Because that helps.” She didn't try to conceal her hurt. He clenched his teeth tight, angry at himself, and walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her almost aggressively. He glared at the grass behind her, trying not to come apart in her arms. He clenched his eyes shut, holding her tighter than he should have. Fighting it, fighting it desperately and losing. He clasped the back of her head, holding too tight and staying too long.

“Goodbye, Suraya,” he murmured, voice less ruined than he thought it would be. He let go of her with enough force to have her stumbling, turned on his heel and began to move. He was heading to the ship hovering over the grass and she was shouting after him. Shouting until her voice was raw. He went to the moon, the place he had died, the place he had fucked over everyone he claimed to care about. And once he was there he tore through every single Hive and Fallen he could find with Light and knives alone. Blinded and reckless, he shredded everything into dust and tried to find something in the massacre that might make him feel less like the terrible person he had become.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much of this is thanks to [Slashseeker.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashseeker/pseuds/Slashseeker) My writing buddy and my friend and my idea bouncer. There are so many glorious possibilities here and we have discussed as many of the tragic ones as we can. 
> 
> And a huge chunk of motivation to keep writing goes to [Katargo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katargo/pseuds/Katargo). Your comments and your continued support has helped drive me to continue this story. 
> 
> This chapter is short, I wouldn't normally go with less than 3000 words, but this is to set the stage for what's about to go down. Enjoy~


	2. Chapter 2

It took a few hours to slow down. When he did, he collapsed into the dust, blood in his teeth, sweat-slicked hair swept across his forehead. He sucked in ragged breaths, clutching at the dirt below him. Maybe this was all for the best, in the end, Devrim deserved better than he could _ever_ hope to give. It took him a long time to pull himself back to his feet, swaying as he stood again. Limbs tight and body already aching. He only stood for a moment before he kept going. He fought with little care for his life, bloodthirsty and insatiable. He fought for two days before his Ghost had enough, she hovered in front of his blood-streaked face and told him he needed to stop this. She said she'd given him long enough, he needed to figure out what he was going to do now.

But Andal didn't know what to do, he was lost and alone so he swept her to the side and kept fighting. When he died for the first time, his Ghost refusing to heal him, she left him dead for three days. She let him bleed out on the cold surface of the moon.

He murmured apologies when she brought him back, ragged and windswept and alone. He lay in the dust, trying to wrap his mind around what he could do next, or where he could go, or even how he could find the energy to get up. He spent hours there, just waiting for nothing, his Ghost desperately trying to get him to get up. Eventually, she gave up, her voice shaking and upset, her will to fight with him gone. She came to rest in the dirt next to him, absently, he pulled her close. “I know you're just trying to help,” he murmured, the blood had long dried and stained the dark ground.

She didn't say anything, cross with him but not so much that she didn't want to be near him. He just held her, his fingertips stroking over the narrow cracks in her shell. Trying to offer the slightest bit of comfort. Eventually, he did sit up, she floated to his lap and settled there. He started a low fire next to them, pure Light and not very hot. But it gave him a sense of peace, it was something he could concentrate on rather than just staring off into nothingness. He had begun to start building himself again, he had been trying to find ways he could sort himself out. The two weeks he had spent away from Devrim he had been trying to work on it.

He had built his strength on the way Devrim could still look at him like he was worth something. He was finding all the pieces of himself he lost somewhere within the man he was falling for. Thier foundation was where they were both broken and he couldn't imagine being anywhere but there. He couldn't imagine the remainder of his life without him. He spent so long in a Tower, in the City, the wanderlust part of him was gone and all that was left was a man content to build his life in one place.

All this time he thought he could build himself a life to live with Devrim beside him. Sometimes he could still hear him telling him to go, even when his knives were drawing holes in the throats of the Thrall rushing at him. He could still feel the weight of the last embrace, still feel the endless moment where his hand was in the air trying to figure out if he wanted to take one last kiss or not. He thought that, maybe this time, he could open himself up to the Void again and let it take him over. Let it consume everything he was and everything he could be, let it pull him under.

After many long hours, probably another new morning back at the Farm, he finally pulled himself up off the ground. Devrim wouldn't want him to stop existing, he knew that much. A wave of exhaustion rolled over him when he got to his feet, he sank back down and closed his eyes. He was covered in dirt and dry blood and quietly asked his Ghost to bring his ship over. It took him some time to get himself sorted out enough to pilot, but he was sure his Ghost was guiding him.

He went back to Earth, went into the mountains and eventually found a waterfall. He was a long way away from the EDZ, high North. He shed his gear and stood under the icy water, scrubbing the grime from his skin. His Ghost hovered approvingly, he had spent enough time being ruined, now he had to try to find a way to move on. This was the first step. He scrubbed his gear clean, got dressed, and sat near the water listening to the sound of the stream. He sat there for awhile, going through circles in his head about what he could possibly do. After a little while, Ikora got in touch with him. She didn't bother with a secure line, he didn't bother to mask his voice.

“ _I need you to come to the Tower, now. Please, I have an idea but I need you._ ”

“Why can't you get someone else?” He asked, he was so tired, blinking his eyes open and trying to just stay awake.

“ _It's Cayde. He's gone AWOL, he's going up against the reboot._ ”

Something cold overtook him, so it was finally happening. At least his death had delayed it, at least he hadn't died for nothing. He almost laughed – what a lie that was. It wouldn't matter if Cayde had been close to losing his memories or not, his end would have been the same. “Sure, sure. I'll be there.” He said, finally. It didn't matter anymore, nothing really did.

He stood, wobbling on weak legs, his Ghost snuggling up in his hood. Maybe Ikora was the answer, he could just mindlessly make his way across the system under her orders, if nothing else it might be enough to keep him busy until he found his way again.

When he neared the Tower, he tucked the hood low over his eyes and pulled the scarf back up. He didn't want to leave the ship, but it really didn't matter if he did or not. Not anymore. It felt strange to stand in the open air of the Hangar, everything was so new. He didn't belong here, if anything this was the last place he belonged. But near the doorway to the rest of the Tower stood Amanda, telling someone off for something. He didn't see Ikora anywhere, but Amanda was.

It wasn't fair to her for him to say something to her, she didn't deserve to be dealt the hand of his renewed life today. He wanted to, he missed her. She looked more mature, now. She'd found her path and she looked happy, Andal's reappearance would just take that away from her. She finished up her scolding and went back to her work, she didn't even give Andal a second glance. No different, than, to a Guardian who wore a helmet all the time. Ikora jogged up to him, he'd rarely seen her look so anguished. “What's going on?” He asked, voice soft.

“Zavala's gone after him. We've been able to tail his ship but it's gone down on a distant moon called Enceladus.”

“You said you had an idea.” At the very least his face was so hidden that she wasn't able to see the state of him. Part of him was too numb to feel much beyond the dull shock.

“We have an expert here at the Tower,” she said softly. “You'll know him. Take him to Cayde, bring them home. I know I'm asking so much of you, but I can't trust anyone else.”

He didn't care. There was already a ship waiting for him and a man standing with a bag of tools draped over one shoulder. Somehow he wasn't surprised to notice it was Braig, he could see what Ikora meant. This was their best chance to bring Cayde-6 home. As they boarded and got settled, he just quietly muttered, “you'll find out why I'm here soon.” If he was about to have a confrontation with Zavala, and Cayde if this worked, he didn't want to have to explain it more times than he had to.

“Right, okay.” Came the reply. As they took off the other continued. “Look, I don't know if I can do this. Ikora seems confident but I really don't know. I tried before, with Garalli, he was going through it and I tried everything I could to stop it but there was nothing I could do.”

And now he saw why Ikora asked him to do this. He still cared about Cayde, she had to know this. Or at least she assumed. No matter what state Andal was in, he wasn't going to let someone back down from saving him. Ikora didn't know all the details, no one did. How was he supposed to encourage someone when he'd spent the last few days driving himself into the ground as hard as he could?

“I don't want to hear it.” He said wearily, “you're going to succeed.” He didn't have it in him for pep talks right now.

“And if it doesn't work? I'll have to face everyone every day knowing that I failed. I'll have let them all down.”

Andal almost smiled. “You're sounding like me,” he replied dryly. “No one is going to blame you if you can't do it. If it didn't work last time you know what to do.”

And then Andal was going to have to either pretend he wasn't who he was or just hide in the ship as the faceless pilot. In the end, it didn't matter if he was exposed. When they got close, he hesitated. Then nodded to his Ghost. When the connection to Zavala's Ghost was established, he forcibly kept his tone calm. “Commander Zavala,” he started, fingers clutching the controls tightly. “This is Hawthorne 2, where are you?” 

“ _Enceladus._ ” But he knew that, Ikora told him that much already. He had been there once or twice, he didn't know it very well. The old familiar voice, talking to him directly, was something akin to a kick in the teeth. “ _Why is a member of the Hidden getting involved?_ ”

He let out a shaky sigh, relaxing his fingers and clenching them again to try to steady himself. He had planned to tell the Commander who he was when he first got in touch so he could have time to digest the reveal. He couldn't do it. “Ikora has an idea, and she asked me to.” He chewed his tongue hard for a moment then kept talking. He couldn't tell him yet, he didn't have the strength for it. He didn't have the strength for any of this, it felt like he was watching his life from below the surface of the water. “You'll see when I get there,” he settled with. “Coordinates.”

When they came through he got to directing them to that location. As his Ghost warned him, he stayed high above the storms below and only breached the atmosphere when they were over the place. His hands were shaking, he was nervously adjusting the cloth over his face and wildly wondering if he could just conceal himself the whole time. When they finally touched the ground, he just sat there trying to breathe. He jumped when Braig touched his arm, but the other didn't remove his hand.

“Get ahold of yourself, Andal. I don't know what happened but at this point, I don't think it matters. You can get through this.” Something about the kind words hurt, Andal couldn't take the calm confidence. He didn't have it in him. But he tried, he was doing this for Cayde and he had to try to keep his head up.

All his strength melted away when he saw Zavala, all the temporary resolve he had to keep going drifted away. It took all his will to lower the scarf and hood, he took his time. “You..” Zavala looked shocked, he also looked a little bit ruined. “How are you..?” Andal bit the bullet, there was no going back now. So he decided he would tell him the entire truth.

“My death was no accident.” It was just soft, it was all the volume he could muster. He didn't miss the Titan's expression shifting towards anger.

“So this was all part of your plan,” he growled. Andal almost could have laughed. Everything was part of his plan – but being alive again hadn't been.

“Some of it, yes.”

“Do you have _any_ idea what you did to him?!” He was raising his voice, Andal flinched. Of _course_ he knew what he'd done to him. They'd been so close and he had gone and planned his own death, of course he knew what that would have done to Cayde. But he had to do it, he didn't have any other options back then.

“I know what I've done.” He relieved those decisions every day. He was in his own personal hell and he had no one to blame but himself.

“You trapped him in a place he didn't want to be!” He already _knew_ and while he expected anger, he just couldn't—

“I know.” He said, still soft, he wanted to sink down to the ice below him and let Zavala's fists do the talking. He wanted to taste blood and let him make him look like he felt. Maybe then he'd feel a little bit better. 

“You lied to all of us.”

“Amanda knew,” part of it, not the whole thing. She was one of the people who thought he was doing it for Cayde. He'd done it for himself.

“You told Amanda?!” He was walking towards him, he had forgotten how intimidating Zavala was. Maybe if he kept pushing he would break his jaw and leave him out in the cold. “What were you thinking? Why would you saddle her with that kind of burden? What did she do to deserve that?!”

He stood with his shoulder's sagged, his eyes tired, his hands loose at his sides. “I couldn't go without knowing he would be okay without me.”

The Titan stood in front of him, he could barely meet his gaze. “After all you did to him you have the _audacity_ to talk about how someone should treat him?” He let his eyes close, he couldn't face him. He didn't have the strength to. “And you've been alive this whole time,” Zavala continued. “Just waiting to swoop in like the hero.”

“No.” He met his gaze again. That was a trick, he'd gone and died so Cayde wouldn't reboot. There was nothing heroic in his actions. His voice was shaking. “I wasn't supposed to wake up again. I tricked my Ghost into surviving and she _waited_ there all those years.” His poor little Ghost, obedient and kind and bumping up against his knuckles. He looked down at her, brushing his fingers over her shell. “I had hoped she would leave me behind.”

The anger seemed to be gone when Zavala spoke, “you regret what you did to her more than what you did to Cayde.”

“Yes,” his voice breathy and weak. He closed his eyes as he closed his hand over her, bringing her close to him, petting the largest crack in her little frame. His voice was strangled when he kept talking. “Cayde had time to heal, he could stop the reboot. For all those years she watched over what was left of me.” He had told himself he would be strong, he had tried to tell himself it would be okay. But it wasn't. It never would be again.

“I know how important he is to you. That's why I'm here.” He was exhausted with the conversation, he just wanted to stop.

“How do I know you're not just going to speed up the process then take him away once he's Cayde-7?” Zavala, for the first time, sounded something other than angry. He sounded hurt. Zavala was about to lose his partner, Andal had already lost him.

His echo of brief laughter felt raw in his throat. “I don't deserve him.” That much was clear, obvious. “You wouldn't lie to him, you wouldn't manipulate him. When this ws up to me I rigged the game and in my last moments I only felt relief.” Finally, he looked back up to meet his gaze. This, at least, he knew, and he could say it with some little bit of strength. “Look at what you did. You abandoned your post to come here to save him or to pick up the pieces. You're willing to risk who you are, your identity, just to try to bring him home.” It wasn't even about deserving, it was obvious who the better man between them. “Even if you're just a stranger to him. I could never get in the way of that.”

The Commander went quiet and stayed that way for a long moment. Finally, his voice weak and tired, he asked, “what do we do?”

It almost felt like he could breathe again. “Braig is going to try something, show us where he is.” He wasn't ready for this, he would never be ready for this. Seeing him the first time had been difficult enough, seeing him again without hiding would be worse.

Cayde lay across a number of piled cushions, he looked like he was asleep. Like he was going to wake up any moment and ask him why he left him. He could feel his pulse in his throat and tried to keep from showing anything. Once Cayde had been his everything, Cayde had been his partner, his everything. Seeing him here and knowing that their confrontation was going to happen soon was almost too much. He turned to Zavala and started speaking. He honestly didn't even remember what he said, some echo of what Braig told him on the way here.

“I came here knowing that he wouldn't remember who I was when he saw me. If there's a chance.. how can I trust you?” Zavala's anger was gone, but he was still rough around the edges.

“You don't have to. I used to look at him the same way you look at him now.” Even in the room, the way he had looked at Cayde and the way his expression had changed when he looked at him. And back then, the Festival, the way Zavala watched Cayde like he was the light in his life. “I wouldn't have been able to watch this,” he said while scrubbing a hand through his hair. “That's why..” He sighed, “truth be told, him rebooting or not, my end would have been the same. Might have roped a different Hunter into the Vanguard though.”

Zavala's expression changed entirely, it was such a quick change he didn't expect to see. It took him by surprise. “No one knew that part, Commander. I got everyone who figured it out to think I was the self-sacrificing hero. In reality, I was the coward who wanted his life to end and needed a scapegoat.”

It was in that moment that he realized that he hadn't told Devrim that part. He hadn't told him the full story. He hadn't even realized that he hadn't told him all of it. He turned away from him, head spinning. Andal had thousands of lives to give, Devrim had one. Devrim would die before him, if Andal could find reasons to stay alive that long. That was the problem between them, what would he do when Devrim was gone? He turned away from the scene, retreated to the closest wall and pressed his back against it and slid down to the floor. Absently, he Lit a roll of tobacco and rest his head against the wall. All they could do now was wait.

And Andal had some thinking to do. Devrim was right, there was a major issue in their relationship and it wasn't going to just go away. It was something they needed to discuss and figure out, if he wanted to continue he was going to have to figure out if he was going to be okay once he was gone. He would have to deal with losing him now, or deal with it years from now. When he thought about his future, what did he see? He had a future now, it was something he didn't have before. Back then all his efforts went into getting through to the next day. He switched on survival mode and went until it was time to end the game.

At least, one thing he knew, was that his future didn't involve Cayde. It had been a very long time since they'd spoken, he didn't know if Cayde was still the same man he had been back then. His time in the Vanguard would have changed him, matured him. He still loved the Exo's memory, who he had been to him and what they'd been to each other. He was trying to learn not to rely on those distant memories, if they ever came together as lovers again, they might ruin their history. But looking over at Zavala, that wasn't going to happen. Andal wouldn't ever be able to take his place.

The Commander joined him after a few minutes, Braig feeling crowded by the Titan's hovering. He choose to sit on the floor next to him, Andal looked at him, he was so tired. He lit a second roll off of the first one, “what are you going to do if this doesn't work?”

Zavala breathed a shaky breath, he took a moment to consider what he was going to say. Had he slowed down enough to think about this? Another sigh. “If it doesn't work.. I will give myself time to grieve. Then time to heal. You know how much the Vanguard asks, that will be enough to keep me busy. Eventually, I will move on.” But his hands were shaking even though he tried to still them. He was trying to calm down his breathing, his eyes were wet. It was a diplomatic answer, the right answer to give in this situation.

And maybe it was Andal's answer too. He was too far gone right now to deal with the healing process properly. But maybe, in a few years, he would be okay. And in a whole lot longer than that, maybe he would be strong enough to deal with the loss of someone properly. Was that the future he wanted?

Was Devrim his future?

When Braig began putting Cayde back together, it was almost time. He should be waking up soon, Andal retreated into the hall. He had found some kind of resolve in Zavala, somehow, and he had to hold tight to it. As soon as he found confirmation that it worked, he was heading back to the ship. From there, no one needed to know who the pilot was, he didn't want any confrontation. So when Cayde woke and muttered something to Zavala, he was already pulling the cloth back over his face.

“Don't get me wrong, awesome way to wake up. I would be so okay with that happening, y'know, a lot. But I feel like I should probably learn your name first." 

Andal froze, closing his eyes, losing his balance and sagging against the wall. The bottom of his stomach dropped out and his vision swam. But then he was reacting, stepping into the room and grabbing the Titan by the arm, hauling him back to his feet. Thankfully, Zavala moved with him instead of resisting. “Braig,” he started, voice rough. “Make sure he's feeling okay, I have to talk to the Commander about something.”

He was pushing Zavala off into another room, once the door was closed and their Ghosts lit the narrow storage room, he put his arms around him. He had never seen him look like this, never seen someone who had always been so strong look so destroyed. When the Commander grabbed him he held too tight, he was unsteady on his feet and it was all he could do to keep them up. He thought his ribs may crack if Zavala held any tighter, but he didn't protest, maybe a part of him needed this just as much as Zavala did. “Please take him to the Farm with you,” his voice was almost a whimper.

Cayde-7 would have no memory of who he and Andal were to each other. He would never know if he still loved Cayde or his memory. He had no chance to apologize and no chance to make any of this up to him, all Andal could do now was be there for someone who just lost their partner. When the Titan finally pulled away, when Andal could breathe properly again, his cheeks were wet but he looked composed. And now Andal was forced to go back to Devrim. Maybe he could finally be enough for him, maybe he could tell him it didn't matter if Devrim wasn't a Guardian, he was going to be there until the end.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly.

“No,” Zavala replied honestly, his smile looked like it hurt. “I never will be ready for this.”

“I'll take care of it.” But he was so close to breaking anyways. When they left the room, Cayde was up and talking to his Ghost. “Right, guys, we should get out of here. Zavala and Braig are going to the Tower, Cayde, you're coming with me.” He was proud of the way his voice didn't crack when he spoke.

Zavala was in the passenger seat next to him, the other two were in the room behind them. It had a weird setup, the rooms weren't actually connected. So he and Zavala had privacy, and he used that to lay his hand over the Titan's. It was all he could offer when he struggled to keep himself together, he could see it in the way he sat there. When they got to the City, Zavala remained still for a moment. Andal knew how he felt and he knew there was nothing he could do or say. As Zavala finally began to move, he gave Andal's hand a brief squeeze before letting go. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andal has some redeeming qualities, right? 
> 
> Nah, I'm kidding. Andal's a good guy, just.. troubled.


	3. Chapter 3

After the brief stop at the Tower, after nodding as Zavala left to face the rest of his life, Cayde climbed into the passenger seat with him. He didn't bother swapping ships, he was nervous and just needed to get back to the EDZ. It was his only driving force right now, it was the only thing that got him to keep going, it was the only thing that felt important enough to chase. At the very least, Cayde seemed to understand that something wasn't okay. This man had the same face, the same voice, the same Ghost as the man he knew. This version just didn't remember him. As difficult as that was, now he didn't have to worry about explaining to him why he did what he did. All could be forgotten. It would be better to face this than it would be to just let things fade off, if he could get there. 

As he neared the EDZ he began to just feel terrified. If Devrim didn't want anything to do with him - if what he said wasn't enough - what was he going to do? They landed in Trostland, the air was so cold and the skies were grey. His jaw was already sore from clenching it for so long. He led Cayde up the familiar pathway to the top of the church. Holding his breath and trying to make it seem like he was confident and sure of himself even though he wasn't.

He knew he was putting him on the spot like this, he knew that what he was about to do wasn't the best idea. It would be kinder, perhaps, to address this privately. He could talk to him and try to explain how he felt. But he had no other options, no other way to shake Cayde and it seemed important to let him know that Cayde-6 was as good as dead. So he walked up to Devrim and ignored the flash of pain across his chest when their eyes met. He stood half in front of him, taking his hand in is own. "Devrim," he started, eyes focused on him. Trying so hard to keep his voice from wavering. "This is Cayde-7. Cayde, this is Devrim. My partner." Bold and stupid, he could see the shock on the tired man's face.

Devrim stood entirely still for a long moment, then his free hand was clasping the side of his neck and pulling him in to kiss his cheek, his heart skipped a couple beats. "Hello, luv, I missed you." He said so softly, Andal thought he might shake apart or break down right there. Then he pulled away, extended a hand to the Exo politely. "Cayde, lovely to meet you. Are you looking for somewhere to stay?"

Cayde just heaved a sigh in return. "I know how this goes, don't worry." He said, "stay away from everyone who knew 6 for a little while, right? I guess he had a lot of friends in the City. I can do that, I get it. There's a place I can stay for a bit though, right? I'll be on my way soon, just need a few days."

"Come with me, Cayde. I'll show you around, there's plenty of places you can stay." Devrim turned to him, Andal held his breath. "And Andal? How about you head home and wait for me?"

Heart hammering in his chest, he nodded, saying "I'll see you there." He tried not to make too quick of an exit, he hardly dared to believe that this was true. He took his ship and went to the Farm. When he got to Devrim's, he hesitated. He knew where the spare key was but he was too nervous to open the door himself. What if it had all been just a show for Cayde? He expected Devrim to come up to him and quietly tell him that he was flattered, but Andal was going to have to go. So he stayed outside, put his back against the door and waited.

Devrim didn't take too much longer, he walked across the grass and Andal got to his feet. He awaited judgement, but instead of any words, Devrim pulled him close and held him. Andal dipped his head to his shoulder and held on so tightly in return. They stood like that for a long time, long enough for Andal to find a little bit of hope. "We should go inside." The other said, his voice was low, he loosened his grip and stepped away, Andal let his arms fall to his sides as the other opened the door. He followed him in.

"I can't do this to you." He started as soon as the door closed behind him, Andal deflated. He wasn't surprised, he had expected this, even if he had hoped more than anything that it wouldn't go like this. "I want to be with you," his voice dropped, he stepped into his reach and his hands grabbed Andal's. "But seeing you like this and knowing I'm going to do this to you years from now isn't something I can handle. If I was the reason you were okay, I fear what will happen when I'm gone."

Andal couldn't speak, his voice caught in his throat so he just squeezed the hands in his tightly. He wanted to tell him that he can't do this on his own, that he needs him to help keep his head above water. He's sinking fast and he can't even find the strength to struggle against the current anymore. He wants to tell him that he loves him, too, but that feels like he's trying to force the answer he wants or it's some kind of bargaining chip. Something like that had to be genuine, and even though it was, this situation just didn't allow it.

Last time he couldn't even fight it, and this time he's quickly losing the will to. "I know it won't be easy." He muttered, "I feel like we could at least _try_." His voice cracked a little, he can't even look at him. "We don't know where we will be years from now," his voice sounds so strained, fighting everything threatening to overwhelm him.

"I know," Devrim's voice was so soft, it almost sounded like he wasn't struggling with this. A warm hand came up to cup his cheek, Andal leaned into the touch and let his eyes close. "You'll be happy, off hunting for the Hidden, or whatever it is you wanted to do with yourself." He took a breath, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone. "And, I'll be here." Now he sounded like his words were tight, now it sounded like a struggle. "We will have two separate lives, and I think that is best for us both. Maybe—" he let out a breath that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Maybe you'll find a nice Guardian you can live out the rest of your days with."

"I don't want anyone else," he started with his wavering voice, Devrim was firm and unmoving. "Can't we just worry about the future later, and be together now?" His shaking hand found a place over Devrim's on his cheek, "can't I just stay?" It wasn't going to work, he knew this. He was going to have to leave, again, and this time there would be no more going back.

"No."

One word. That's all he said. It was firm, there was no arguing and no more chances. Maybe if he had said better things, maybe if he had tried pulling every last trick he knew to be allowed to stay, things would have gone differently. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was supposed to—

"Okay." Andal said, breathless. He couldn't do this on his own, he couldn't think. He really was too far gone, wasn't he? Too far gone even for someone who told him he loved him. This was for his own good, it seemed, no matter how fucked up he always thought that mentality was. He let go of the sniper's hand and it fell away from his skin. Devrim wasn't looking at him, so he turned and stumbled out of the front door into the bright afternoon. The sky had cleared and it was sunny and sharp and cold, he began to walk.

From there, everything went numb, the smashing pain in his chest broke into nothing. He started walking and just kept walking, he walked late into the night. When his Ghost timidly suggested that he rest for a little while, he obeyed. He sat under the moon and hated everything he was and everything he had done. He was just at the side of some old abandoned road, smoking and watching as clouds gathered. When the sky opened to a new cloudy day, he continued to walk. His Ghost didn't even tell him off for leaving the ship behind. When she told him to eat, he ate. When she told him to rest, he did. When she told him to sleep, he tried to. He couldn't quite wrap his head around what happened, not yet. He didn't want to work through it just yet, he didn't have an answer to the question 'what now?' and he wasn't ready to try to find that answer.

Something about him was flawed, the Void had done its damage even though he didn't feel its call anymore. The rest had been self-inflicted, he had let his own misery consume him and he had pushed Devrim away. Maybe he'd done it on purpose, he knew his own worth and he knew it didn't live up to his brief partner. Typical for him, it seemed. Everything good crumbled to dust whenever he touched it, everything he could have had always fallen short. No, it was just him who fell short. All his efforts meant nothing. If it wasn't for the wordless little Ghost that stayed trembling against the side of his throat in his hood, he knew what would happen from here.

Three days after their last words, the City tried to reach him. He denied the ping, he had a feeling he knew what they wanted. He couldn't comprehend the idea of a conversation right now, he was only just getting by. He'd hit the bottom and now he was looking up at the pale ripples of light above him he can no longer reach. All that's left is closing his eyes and letting the darkness overtake him.

They kept trying to reach him for the next few days, in the end, he asked his Ghost to cut all contact. She hesitated but didn't fight him. She did what he asked and tucked herself back into his hood. " _What do we do now?_ " She asked, so soft. He just shook his head, he didn't have any answers. At this point, his life was just for her. He owed it to her, after all he'd done to her. She'd waited over his body while he decayed into nothing, he could keep pushing for her.

It snowed the next day, the sky had been threatening it since the day after he left. He walked through the evening after hours of snow and found, for the first time since the Farm was put behind him, something that felt like calmness filling him. He wasn't making a lot of progress on this journey, he walked slow and didn't care to go quickly. Any weathered road signs pointing to cities he avoided, he wasn't up for a fight, there was no point to it. If he were honest, he wasn't so sure he would try to survive a fight. There wasn't much left in him. He walked through the snow for hours. 

With a blanket of snow on the ground glittering under the haze of clouds under the nighttime sky, he sat down on an old ruined bench at the side of the road. He listened to the quiet, the gentle patter of snowflakes landing on the earth. It wasn't that hard to hear the approach of something. He didn't pay it any mind, he didn't care. It didn't sound alien, it sounded like a person. He just wished he still had enough left in him to hope that it was Devrim walking up to him. Not that it would happen anyway, Devrim would never come all this way just for him.

Cayde sat down next to him on the bench, he had changed his gear up a little, he had taken off Andal's old cloak and replaced it with something else. He still wore the scarf, though, had it looped around his throat. It wasn't a surprise to see him here, then again he didn't think much would surprise him at this point. This version of Cayde seemed, so far, much less cheery than the last one. Maybe his time in the Tower had changed him so much it carried over to the next version of him. Seeing him still wasn't easy, but Andal was nothing more than a stranger to him.

After a few minutes of silence and another roll of tobacco lit, Cayde finally spoke. "What, not gonna ask me how I found you? C'mon, I had so many good one-liners."

Andal huffed a scoff, inhaling a long drag. Elbows on his knees, leaning forwards, scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He looked like a mess, he expected. "Doesn't matter." He murmured after a long period of silence.

"Ugh, you are no fun." Cayde was visibly moping or at least putting on his best efforts into looking like he was, maybe his earlier assumption had been wrong. Cayde was still Cayde. He just wanted him to leave, with everything else he didn't need this too.

After another few minutes of silence, Cayde leaned forwards again, mimicking Andal's posture. "You can at least ask me why I tracked you down specifically, right?"

Another soft, dry, "doesn't matter."

With a sigh, Cayde sat back up. "Okay, look, are you going to talk to me or what? I came a long way to find you."

Andal blinked at the carpet of snow in front of them, there was a dull ache in his chest. "What's the point?" He asked.

"That Titan." Cayde muttered. "The Awoken, the one who was kissing me when I came to."

He couldn't really find the strength to respond, it all felt so pointless, what did any of it matter? But this was Zavala Cayde was asking about, the man who stood always tall and strong and brave that had broken completely in his arms. He glanced back at the Exo, who was looking more than a little sorry for himself.

"We were probably.. together, right? That's why he—?"

Andal nodded, looking away again. "You sure you want to know?"

"Yeah, I do. Thing is, the worst part about the reboot isn't losing my memories or anything. It's everyone else. They'll pretend we never knew each other, I don't know maybe they think I won't want to be friends with them again. It's even worse if I was actually seeing someone, are they gonna see me or see who I used to be? Is it even fair to either of us to try again?"

Andal was quiet, watching the snow. It still hadn't let up. "How do you remember this part?"

Cayde made a noise that sounded almost hurt. "It always comes to me. We know what a reboot does, it's easy to put the rest of it together."

He understood that, if he had an option to wipe his mind completely and start again he would. Just forget all of this and start again, only his name behind him and no reason to recall his former life. Then he wouldn't have to keep hearing the word 'no' echoed in his mind over and over. He remained quiet, looking at the ash marring the ground.

"So, that Titan. What's his name? Who is he?"

He wanted to tell him to just go, this conversation felt so exhausting, He didn't have the energy for this, he didn't care enough to find the energy either. This was Cayde he was talking to, the one he had manipulated into taking his old job so he could be free. The one he had broken over when he came back.

"Andal? Hey?" Cayde pressed. Andal held a flash of Light in his hands to light another roll, then exhaled into the evening.

"His name's Zavala. He's the Vanguard Commander, you were together for a little while. Not.. not long enough, though." He meant what he said, Zavala was a good man.

"How come?" Cayde asked, voice sliced with worry. Then, "wait, Commander?" Then Cayde went quiet, contemplating the implications of a relationship with a man who stuck himself behind walls.

He sent Cayde away after a few more minutes and kept moving. Going slowly, following abandoned paths and stopping when his Ghost told him to rest. He didn't know if it was too difficult to be around the Exo, or if it was no different than being alone. After everything that happened and Cayde remembering nothing, it was him alone who still had to carry that burden. Being around him was still exhausting, no matter how difficult it may or may not be. He couldn't tell anymore.

The next day, or maybe a few days, while continuing his path to nowhere, Cayde found him again. "Wow, you move quick." He said, cheerful. "Here look I brought you something, there can't be a lot of food out here."

When Andal said nothing, his Ghost fluttered around the Exo's head, " _thank you, Cayde_."

"Hey, no problem. It's the least I can do."

"Why are you following me?" He muttered, voice a little sharp. His Ghost looked at him, her pieces sagging, he couldn't even feel regret.

Cayde fell into step next to him and hummed in thought. After a minute, he spoke. "Do you want the real answer or the fluffy one?" Andal didn't really know how to respond to that, but before he could reply Cayde had started up again. "I take that back. You're just going to say 'doesn't matter' again and I'm not gonna keep hearing it. I'll give you both."

Without warning, a hand grabbed him by the wrist. He stopped, looking back at the Exo who had stopped moving. He stared dully into the bright blue lights of his eyes. "I didn't think I had a choice, Andal." Cayde started, voice gentle. "From what I saw of you, you looked like a good guy. I really just wanted to ask you about Zavala, but it really didn't take me long to figure out something else was going on. Have you seen yourself lately? I don't know what you're going through, but I thought you could use a friend."

When he tried to pull his arm from the Exo's grasp his fingers tightened, so he twisted his arm away and Cayde relented. He took a few steps backwards, then turned and kept going. The last 'friend' he needed was Cayde, not with the history only he remembered.

"Really?!" The Exo shouted after him. "Wow. Yeah, no wonder you're alone if this is how you react when someone just wants to help."

Andal could have laughed, an insult like that didn't even hurt anymore. It was just true, plain and simple. He kept walking, Cayde gave up. His Ghost was quiet through all of this, she didn't even request that he stop and rest anymore. She just stayed in his hood tucked close to his neck, her little form trembling.

When he made it to the ocean possibly a few days later, he walked along the dry sand and shells and eventually came to sit down near where the waves stopped. He had lost track of time, the day-night cycle was meaningless. " _Andal..?_ " The Ghost's voice was soft and quiet, she didn't emerge from his hood. He hummed a soft noise in reply, he was listening. ". _. do you remember, before, when you.._ " She was just a little Ghost, and he didn't know entirely how they worked or even what exactly they were, but her voice shook in a way that felt human. " _You told me to.. find someone else._ " Her voice cracked over the word 'find', he cupped the shape of her through the hood.

"I remember."

" _I'm going to do that._ " Her voice sounded so tight, so small.

"What? Why?" This one actually did hurt, she had been his companion this whole time, she had been at his side even while he decayed into nothing. Now she wanted to leave him too? After the moment of shock passed, he was simply unsurprised. She could find a better Guardian than him anyway. 

She emerged from his hood and floated before him. " _I can't keep watching this. I can't keep forcing you to keep going because of me. If I leave—_ "

Andal was just quiet, letting her speak. Letting her tell him how done with him she was, but that's not what happened. 

" _My presence here is just cruel, I'm pushing you to keep going. You've only come this far because of me, and I think it's time you made the choice without me forcing your hand._ " Her voice trembled, her shell shook, he opened his hands for her and she sank into his palms. She didn't want to go. " _I'm so sorry, Andal. I care about you too much to make you suffer. If it's easier to—_ " She paused, her cracked lens watching him, she looked so small. " _You will always know how to find me, and I'll come back if you need me._ "

Andal kissed the tip of her shell, something like relief filling him as he let her go. She floated in front of him and he offered her the smallest of smiles. "Thank you." She didn't hate him, she wasn't doing this because she didn't care anymore. She was just giving him the choice, she was just breaking the promise he'd made to her. 

Then she was gone.  

Now Andal had to decide what to do with himself. From where he was, sitting in the cool sand, there were two options. Be done with all of this, let everything consume him and go dark for the _last_ time. Or he could get up and keep moving. 

Hours later, when the sun had set and the tide had rolled out, a third option presented himself. Cayde sat beside him in the sand, building himself up for whatever he was going to say for a few minutes before actually speaking. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said. You don't deserve that."

This time, he did laugh. A sharp burst of noise that probably sounded insulting. "Trust me, I do." He replied. He'd been here so long the tide was beginning to come in again.

"Why do you think that? What happened that made you like this?"

Andal brought a roll of tobacco to his lips, let a flash of Solar burn the end, then exhaled into the clear air. "I fucked you over."

"..me? I'm.. not sure I want to know."

"You probably don't." His voice got tight, clenching his teeth to fight off the emotion building in his chest. "I did a lot of terrible things." Another wave of it, his breath shook. He spoke with his teeth clenched hard to keep himself calm.

Cayde let out a long sigh, then he reached over to him and took his hand. Andal stared as Cayde threaded their fingers together. "Why don't you tell me what happened? Maybe it wasn't so bad. I know your Ghost isn't here, Andal, mine told me, kinda feels like you may as well spill, right? If this is it?" 

He was shaking, Cayde already had him all figured out. He'd forgotten how perceptive he could be. He pulled his hand from Cayde's grasp, looking down at his boots. Cayde didn't push anymore, Andal didn't speak. At least not at first. After a few long minutes, he started to talk. He told him the story, how they'd met, his first tangle with Taniks, he breezed over a lot of their physical relationship, that part wasn't important. 

He talked about his decline, the years and years he just endured. The call of the Void, the headaches, the blackouts, the constant exhaustion, the lack of any kind of relief from the agony of it. He didn't go into a lot of detail about the accident, he told him that Cayde had been in one and had been gone for a long time. When he'd come back he was in the process of the reboot.

Through all of it, Cayde didn't say a word. He just listened as Andal wrote him their story. Andal spoke with his carefully controlled voice, but when he got closer to the end he chose to take, his voice got weaker. It shook more. When he told him that he made the decision to end his own life, he stopped trying to hide the pain that rolled through him. He told him that he manipulated the situation, that he had chosen Cayde to take his position in the Vanguard to help save him. He mentioned he got everyone who knew to think that saving Cayde was why he did it. He told him no one knew his primary reason was pure selfishness.

Then there was telling him when he'd come back when the Light did. His promise to his Ghost, his journey to the Farm, his meeting with Devrim, his agonizing regret and guilt over what he'd done. Telling him no one knew he was around until Ikora figured him out, that he had fallen for a mortal man who told him to go to save him from losing him later.

When he'd finished, his last words brief and simple about his confrontation with Zavala, it was only the sound of the waves between them. After a moment, Cayde moved, kneeling in front of him in the sand. Cayde gathered up Andal's hands in his own, holding them both between his. "Andal," the Exo started, he could barely meet his gaze. Ashamed of himself, of his actions. "Hey, come on, look at me." It took some effort to gather himself enough to do so and when he did Cayde squeezed his hands.

"I forgive you."

Now he was just confused, it must have shown on his face. "I understand why you did everything you did, I get why you're here. I don't blame you for it. If I'm honest, I'm lucky I can just reboot if things get too hard. You can't. So if it means anything at all coming from 7 and not 6.. I forgive you."

Andal could only hold himself together for a few moments before he broke down in Cayde's arms, never anticipating that he would have the chance to tell him and much less bring actually forgiven. "I forgive you," the Hunter kept murmuring, petting his hair and helping guide him through this. He clung to the person he used to love so much. Cayde had drained the tank and he lay in shallow water and he could breathe again. Nothing was magically fixed, but the weight was eased.

By morning Cayde had left again, he stood on the beach and called his Ghost back to him with his old scarf wrapped around his wrist. Before Cayde left, he'd asked him if he could have it back. He made his decision, he could do this. At the very least, this time he had a fighting chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit worried this chapter might have been a bit much. But things have to get worse before they get better, right? 
> 
> Devrim's little nickname for Andal comes directly from Slashy, and of course, thank you for all your help with plotting out how this is going to go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Hello, Devrim. It's Ikora._ ” Her voice sounded forcibly pleasant, it was as if she were trying not to sneer. “ _I'm glad you answered, we seem to have lost track of Andal. We've tried many times to get in touch with him, but it appears that he's simply gone offline._ ”

“Hello as well, Ikora.” He responded quietly, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “I am sorry, I don't know where he is at the moment. His ship isn't here.”

“ _It's here at the Tower, he should have mine._ ” 

“Ah, yes, that's right. Silly me, I believe it is still here then.”

“ _How can you not know where he is?_ ” He didn't miss the accusation in her words, the sharpness in her voice.  

“He left.” It was all he could manage. Andal had been gone for almost a week now. Telling him to leave for the second time had been the hardest last words he'd ever said to someone. He had broken up with partners in his past, he had to give kind words to the families of the lost. He had to stay strong when others weren't, even if he was just as frail and downtrodden as they were. He was good at that, knowing someone needed him made things a bit easier. Somehow when he'd asked if he could stay all he could manage was a single word in reply. If Andal had pushed any more, he didn't think he could have kept his resolve. He was too respectful, too kind, for his own good. Andal didn't deserve to be hurt again, he couldn't bear to be the reason he fell apart again years from now. It was best to do it now and get it over with so the Hunter could heal, properly, on his own. If he stayed, they would heal together, and they both knew how this was going to end. But they both knew how this would end, there was no other way it could. Anything they could have had an expiration date, and when that came to pass one of them would be alone.  

This way, at least, Andal could live a long happy life with someone who wasn't going to die on him so soon. And _oh_ how it hurt.

“ _He left? Why?_ ”

“It was the best course of action.” He responded mechanically. “He is a Guardian and I am not, I feel like he would be happier if he did not have to face the inevitability of my death. _”_ It was the most diplomatic answer he could produce. He was certain that their relationship had been kept between the two of them and Suraya, it didn't matter anymore if anyone else knew anymore.  

“ _I see. Well, if you hear from him, we are interested in speaking with him._ ”

He ended the call and sat down in the chair, the one Andal used to use when he sat in the corner smoking and working on his strange projects and experiments. He had spoken to Suraya about all this, she had demanded to know what his problem was and why Andal left the first time. He told her everything, he didn't want to keep secrets from her. He hadn't spoken to her since that day, she wasn't happy with him and made it very clear. She would get over it soon, he suspected. Things would go back to how they were before he met the broken Guardian and it wouldn't _matter_  how he felt anymore.  

Devrim had faith that Andal would find his way, but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty about what he had done. His mind kept spinning in circles, better to do this now – like ripping off a band-aid. No need to prolong it. But he wasn't an idiot, he knew he was continually trying to justify it to himself. It was all he could do to keep himself from going after him, even though he had no real idea how to find him. At the moment he wanted to tell him he had to stay and that he couldn't leave again, he wanted nothing more. His mortality was the problem, even if things weren't as bad as they were he would still be the one to die first, and Andal would be left behind. Andal would always be left behind.  

And if Andal didn't find his way—

The next day he didn't head into the EDZ, he stayed home. The air had a bite to it and he was confident it was going to snow. He just didn't have the energy in him to head out today, maybe he could blame it on the change in weather. He still had the communications machinery set up haphazardly between the kitchen and the dining room. He could still send out the occasional page to nearby Guardians when enemy activity increased, but he didn't think it would. He made himself a cup of tea and sat alone at the table. 

The half-drunk cup went cold by the time there was a knock at the door. He stood up wearily, perhaps Suraya was here to tell him off. Perhaps Andal had—

Zavala stood on the other side of the door without any of his usual plasteel armour. He carried a content looking chicken in his arms, the feathered creature wore an outfit - he didn't pin Zavala for the type to dress up his pets - a cape and horn. He couldn't help the wave of sorrow that washed over him, he had been shocked enough to see that Cayde had come back with a new number behind his name, seeing the people he left behind was worse. “Zavala?” He murmured, then stepped back. “Come in, come in.” When the Awoken stepped into the entranceway, Devrim closed the door behind him and hurried his cold cup off the table and into the sink. “Can I get you anything hot to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the Titan responded. “Do you mind if I set her down?”

“Oh, uh, not at all?” He was flustered and tense, it wasn't often the Commander left the Tower. Much less to see someone like him.  

“She's trained,” Zavala said kindly, setting her down on the floor. “She was his, it didn't feel right to surrender her. The Dawning is coming up soon and a Guardian made it for him.” His expression saddened as the animal began to explore the room, eventually settling down somewhat cheerfully on a couch cushion that had been knocked to the floor. He at least hid that he'd been sleeping on the couch by neatly folding the blanket over the back of it. 

Zavala had sat down at the table, solemn but steady. The loss was fresh for him.  

“How have you been holding up, anyway?” He asked, softly, sitting down across the table from him. Zavala rubbed a hand over his face.

“Not well.” He admitted. “He's everywhere, every room, every hallway, every last corner of that Tower has an echo of him.” Zavala wasn't here to mask how he felt, his sorrow was pure and he was working through it by allowing himself to feel it. He could admire that act of strength. It was much more than Devrim was capable of.  

He also knew how it felt, he had moved in with Marc before his death. When he came back here it had been empty and without those whispers of him. In that sense, he had been lucky. It was easy to avoid the places he had been. Andal still lingered, it's why he found himself falling asleep on the couch listening to the crackling static of empty comm lines.

Zavala allowed himself a moment to realign himself. “I spoke to Suraya about your situation. I apologize for interfering, I know that this isn't any of my business. But I feel like I can offer some advice. Losing Cayde is one of the most difficult things I have faced, I sincerely feel like we did not have enough time together. Perhaps we did not have enough time together for me to be this upset.” He paused, casting a fond glance at the hen with her feathers all fluffed up on the cushion. “It isn't a bad thing to need help from those you care about. If it were not for Shaxx, and Ikora, I would be a lot worse for wear.”

“Zavala—“ Devrim started, his voice threatening to crack. Zavala silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Please, Devrim. I have had a very long week. If you truly do not care about him, then I understand and I don't have anything else to say on the matter. I will not try to tell you what to do, nor will I give you any kind of ultimatum. You have clearly done what you have because you care. When Cayde—“ he cut himself off, looking away. His wounds were still fresh and bleeding, seeing him like this was heartbreaking. He spoke again once he had composed himself.

“All I can say is this; I knew one day he wasn't going to be the man I loved anymore. I knew everything could change and he wouldn't know who I was, and I still chose to go forward. My only regret is that I did not admit how I felt sooner. You may have your reasons and I will not argue that they are good ones, there will be a day you will need to decide what's more important; the risk, or the person important to you.”

“Just give me a moment,” he said, getting to his feet and retreating into the kitchen. The sink and the window couldn't be seen from the table, while most of the rest was. Some of the glowing computer screens were visible from the table so he could still see if anything needed his attention if he was sitting down. A partial wall concealed where he stood, he ran the water and choked back the pain. He filled the kettle, set it to boil, and looked outside. It was finally snowing, he tried to reign it all in. Zavala couldn't be right, he didn't need to question himself now that it was too late. To steady himself, he gathered a little tray and grabbed a number of drink powders in little packets. He took great care in arranging them side by side in neat little rows, just to give himself a little bit more time. Once the packets were organized and with the water boiling, he returned to the Commander sitting in his kitchen. 

 “it's snowing.” He said, his voice tight. “How about we celebrate?” He held the tray out for him.  

Zavala let out a low laugh, “there doesn't seem to be a lot to celebrate, my friend, not right now.”

“I know. Why don't we pretend there's something anyway?”

“I can try.” He responded, looking at the various packages. He was quite sure that some of them were pre-Collapse. “How is this one?” He asked, grabbing one seemingly at random.  

Devrim wrinkled his nose, his laugh sounded like a sob. “Just awful, I'm afraid, it tastes like stale sawdust.”

“I think that may be suitable.” And given the situation, he really didn't think he could disagree. He retreated back into the kitchen, opening the window to let the cool air in. It let him breathe, as the water boiled it allowed him to calm down. He had done the right thing, even if he didn't like it. He did the right thing - and if he kept telling himself that it might be able to completely convince himself. When Zavala returned to the City, after an hour or so of soft conversation, Devrim was left alone to his thoughts again. The Titan did have a point, a few of them if he cared to keep track. All it led to was more indecision, no matter how many times he told himself over and over that he had done the right thing he still wasn't sure it was. It was too late to take it back now, though, he was stuck with this decision and all that was left was to tell himself it was the right thing. And anyway, Andal would never forgive him and he wouldn't ever blame him for that. He had dug his grave and Suraya refused to talk to him.

A week later he sat in the church tower, mulling over the snow and the distinct lack of movement out here. The most activity he had seen was a group of Guardians roughhousing, and even that was short lived as the group took off to another area once more. He could say he was bored if he didn't want to be honest with himself. He sat back in his chair and turned the volume up on the little speakers, fiddling through channels absently. Plenty was still going on, just not here. It was when he switched into the Vanguard lines that he caught a familiar voice. 

“— _know, Ikora._ ”

“ _And you're.. okay with this?_ ”

“ _Not entirely, but I assume the Vanguard will address this with some kind of discretion._ ” Andal's voice came through so clearly, so openly, and he didn't sound as ragged as he had when they'd last spoken. He didn't sound happy, but he sounded like he was doing okay. He rubbed a hand over his face, knew he should change it. His fingers twitched over the controls, unable to do anything about it. 

“ _Are we taking you to the Farm?_ ” Her voice was soft, gentle. Very unlike the way she'd spoken to him. He couldn't say he didn't deserve it, though. 

“ _Look, I_ —“ Andal started, his voice a little shaky. “ _I'd like to, trust me. It's.. it's not a good idea._ ” It wasn't a good idea due to Devrim sending him away. Again. He chewed the inside of his lip, listening to the way his tone darkened. He had no right to listen to this. 

“ _Is everything okay?_ ”

He didn't want to hear this, he was going to change it when Andal laughed. Just a short huff of sad laughter. “ _Okay?_ ” He started, voice rough. “ _I mean, I guess I might be. I think that's what it is. Can't say the same thing about the situation, though._ ”

With a somewhat wounded noise making itself known at the back of his throat, he turned the channel to another one, a dead line with no one talking. Breathing hard like he'd just been running. It didn't last very long, by the time he switched it back Andal was talking again. “ _—een so long I doubt anyone would remember me._ ” He paused for a moment, Ikora didn't respond. “ _I was thinking I get to the City. See what's left there for me._ ”

They spoke for a long time, discussing the issue of the next Hunter Vanguard. The job offer, part of him wanted Andal to take it, so he could have something to drive him forwards. The rest of him wanted him to have nothing to do with it. He was in contact with the Vanguard often, he wasn't so sure he was up to the task of talking to him. Would Andal try to avoid him? At least the Hunter seemed resistant to the idea, expressing that he wasn't ready for that right now. He confessed he was struggling without using those words. When the connection ended, he turned everything off and went back home. He had done the right thing, he had to have. At the very least, he had done the right thing for Andal. It was hard to say if it had been the right thing for himself, that much was something he could admit.  

When he got home, after kicking snow off his boots and hanging his coat on the door, he just sat at the table in silence. That evening, someone came for Ikora's ship.

It was a long cold winter. When the snow began to melt and the trees began to grow their leaves, he had to get back to work. Enemy activity increased the warmer it got. It took all his energy to keep going. Sending Guardians out to complete all these mundane tasks. He tried, really, he was beginning to wonder if it was time for him to just step down and retire. Finally retire, for real this time. He still listened to Andal's voice whenever he spoke on any comm lines. He kept what he said to a minimum, he didn't address other Guardians, he kept his communications short. Though he did catch a few conversations between him and Suraya, her relentless teasing and his sharp tongue in reply and every word between them spoken with affection. She still hadn't spoken to him. Maybe she was just busy, he told himself that his calls weren't going through those long nights he tried.

While Andal seemed to be finding stable ground in training the new Hunter Vanguard, Devrim was slipping. He was spending a lot of time at Marc's grave. It was empty, of course, they never did recover the body. But he'd done what he could to remember and mark the place. He spoke to him, softly, asking him why he couldn't just forget about all of this, then asking why he couldn't have just been selfish about the situation. He would tell Marc that he would have got along with Andal quite well. That, or they wouldn't have liked each other. Andal was patient and if he gave Marc the time to get through all his abrasion they might have been friends. 

Marc never responded, there were no grand signs from the universe telling him one way or another. No answers ever came to him. He held the old yellow scarf he wore on his arm fondly, it didn't ache so much to know he was gone, not like it had. It was the one small bit of positivity that came from this, the loss of his partner didn't sting so badly. Andal had helped him more than he gave him credit for. Perhaps that was selfish of him, taking something he needed from their brief relationship while Andal was left with nothing. 

Andal almost seemed happy from what little he could hear of him, he found any of his public comm lines and held on to each word. Ashamed of the way he listened in so intently, but unable to stop himself. There were interactions where he egged Zavala on or minor moments where the man laughed in a way that sounded like he was _free_. Zavala, too, began to sound less darkened. The best thing for Andal had been to tell him to go, he was content knowing that. He just couldn't say the same about himself. 

The weeks drifted away, Andal's communication got less and less frequent as the new Hunter Vanguard took over completely. Soon enough he didn't hear him speak a word no matter how intently he listened. It was probably better that way, torturing himself by listening to his calm voice didn't help anyone. He still mourned the loss of the one thing keeping him somewhat sane all alone out here.  

One of those rainy mornings he heard footsteps coming up the ramp. He thought nothing of it, many Guardians came to see him on a daily basis. Some even brought him tea or little treats from faraway planets and moons. He was quite fond of the attention, it helped keep his mind off of everything else. He prepared himself for a beat before he turned to look at the visitor. Tt was Andal who stood at the top of the ramp, his pale green eyes so tired, his hair a mess as if he'd been running worried fingers through it endlessly. He went cold, and at the same time felt embarrassingly hot at the sight of the Hunter. When he spoke, all that calm ease he'd been listening to these last few weeks evaporated into something timid and uncertain. “Can we talk?” Andal asked, his voice sounded like he was forcing himself to sound calm. 

He cleared his throat. “I suppose we could.”

Andal took a few steps towards him, the room seemed so small with him standing here. “I just.. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

Andal nodded, hands wringing together over his belt. “If you hadn't sent me away, I don't think I would be here right now.” Something cold rippled through him at the words. Then Andal dropped his gaze, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Truth is, I almost didn't make it through that." He started to open his mouth to apologize or to babble on about how he needed to just come _home_ right now, but Andal shook his head. “Please— I just want to say a few things. Then I'll go. And I won't ever bother you again.” He could swear he heard his voice catch in his throat. He was trying so hard to be calm and collected.  

Devrim swallowed, then nodded abruptly. Andal took a deep breath, shifting anxiously. “I was about to just be done with it all. My Ghost left, so I wouldn't be obligated to stick around just for her. Ended up having a long conversation with Cayde.” He said quickly, then paused to contemplate his words. He hadn't known it had gone so badly, he hadn't known his Ghost would leave him. Then - had he really come here to tell him he had moved on to someone else? His teeth were clamped hard on the edges of his tongue. “He _forgave_ me,” he said it like he was still amazed it had happened, Devrim felt a small swell of pride at the words. Andal was _healing_. Healing without him and setting Devrim aside now that he was done with him, it's what he wanted even if it felt like he was being torn apart. 

Then Andal took a step forwards, he was well within reach now. He pulled a neatly folded section of cloth from his belt, it was hard to tell exactly what it was. Thin gold chains were tucked safely in the folds, he could see the glimmering reflections of the fabric. Cabal, he thought, he recognized the markings but he didn't recognize the colour scheme. Andal offered it to him, Devrim held out a hand to take the gift. The Hunter hesitated, then set the cloth down on his palm, “I still love you, Devrim.” He muttered, he hadn't heard him say that before. “I understand why you told me to go, and I know I am not worthy of this. Of you.” He withdrew, leaving the fabric in his hand and taking a step back. “If you ever change your mind, I am yours.” Now his voice was shaking, “I will _always_ be yours.” 

The Hunter took another step back, looking stricken as he met his gaze one last time, then turned to go. “Andal, wait,” he said, soft. “You _are_ worthy.” He wanted to tell him he needed to stay and that he needed to be here with him because Devrim was sure at this point that he was the one who couldn't do this on his own. But he looked at him intently in that moment. Andal looked healthy, he looked like he was doing okay for himself, he looked better than he'd ever seen him.  _I am going to die one day_ , he thought. 

Andal turned to look at him, his expression sad but there was the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes. Hope he was going to crush. “Are you asking me to stay?” He muttered. At Devrim's silence, he clenched his teeth and spoke through gritted teeth. “I understand. I'll leave you alone. I.. I won't be coming back.” He said it as he looked away. As if telling him this was too hard to face him at the same time. When he left, the room felt hollow and empty. He held the cloth in his hands and in a rush of anger swung his fist into the wall. Something cracked in his wrist from the impact. Why couldn't he just step up and say he made a mistake? _Yes, Andal, I do want you to stay w_ as all he had to say, but he couldn't bring himself to own up to his mistake. He wished it had been him on that ship when the Legion attacked, he wished he'd insisted on going too, or that he had told Marc to stay here so he didn't risk his life. Then none of this would have happened, Andal would have been taken in by Suraya and this whole mess would have worked out better for everyone.  

It was only when he got home that night that he took a look at the cloth. He did wrap his wrist, first, it ached sharply but he didn't think anything was broken. And if it was he really couldn't bring himself to care. The scarf wasn't that big, but it wasn't small. The bulk of it was this dark royal purple with little embellishments of bright gold that shone in the low lights of the dining room. Pieces of that red scarf Andal used to wear to hide his face was braided in with strips of black and that dark purple cloth, then sewn into two sides. One of the last two sides had these fine gold chains woven in and out of it. It looked hand-made, it also looked like it had been salvaged. A piece of it was torn and the missing piece was filled in with simple black thread to keep it together.  

This scarf had to mean something, he just didn't know what. He didn't know many Guardian customs, he didn't want to ask. Like Marc's old scarf around his arm, it felt comforting to have it on him. It was a bit big but he wrapped the scarf around his aching wrist and tied the bandage on snugly so it could heal. The chains settled somewhat uncomfortably near his elbow, but it felt comforting to have it on him, one of the edges right against his palm. Over the course of the day, the scarf would come loose and he could be reminded of it all. Two pieces of cloth from two people he cared about, two people he couldn't be with anymore. The next day his knuckles were so swollen he was sure something was actually broken. 

“Man, you look like someone kicked your puppy,” Cayde said cheerfully, breaking the silence and Devrim's quiet mourning. It had been almost a week since Andal's visit. As far as he could tell the Hunter had dropped off the radar and the new Vanguard was taking care of business. Cayde was loud and happy and it just set an ache in his skull he knew would last all day. The Ghost floating over the Exo's shoulder sighing quite audibly in response to her Guardian's chipper mood. “You sure you're not a Hunter? You've got the brooding loner bit down perfect.” Cayde continued cheerfully. With his knuckles bruised and battered, he had Andal's gift folded neatly by the monitors.  

“Cayde,” he growled in warning, he wasn't interested in this interaction. He was rather surprised he could muster the energy to be annoyed. “Can I help you?”

After a bit of prodding on Cayde's part, he cheerfully explained what the scarf meant, and what Andal had to go through in order to get ahold of all the pieces. _Always yours_ Andal had said, a Vow, one crafted and practised by the peculiar way Hunter's did things. Andal was layers of himself around a core that was Hunter with pride and importance in his cloaks and his skill with a blade. He had been right, it did mean something. It was something that didn't happen a lot, it seemed, not a lot of Hunter's liked the idea of settling down with someone knowing that their final death could be any moment. Typically it happened in moments where both parties were sure they were going to die. The Vow was the last stand they could give to each other, and this was Andal's. 

“Right.” He muttered after the explanation was finished. “Thank you for the information. Please leave.” Cayde looked somewhat disappointed at the request, but his Ghost nudged him to get going. When the Exo left, he sank down into the chair and lost himself in thought. Andal made it clear he wasn't going to try anymore, he wasn't going to come around again and if anything was going to change it was going to have to be Devrim who made that happen. Andal deserved a partner who had a matching lifespan, not someone like him.   
  
Another week later, Suraya knocked on his door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going with this? 
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed reading it.


End file.
